


The Seaweed is Always Greener ...

by Somethingwonderfulneversaid



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethingwonderfulneversaid/pseuds/Somethingwonderfulneversaid
Summary: The below is set shortly after The Long Game.  This is inspired by my own experiences of exhaustion and chronic illness.
Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	The Seaweed is Always Greener ...

Roses reflection looked hollow against the toughened Perspex glass. She could see where the kohl she had carefully framed her eyes in had started to bleed into the bags now sitting as purple indents under her eyes.

She hadn’t slept since she’d seen Adam’s “upgrade”. Every time she tried to rest she saw his forehead open, the brain underneath fragile and spongy.

The Doctor had brought her to another museum - wanting to erase Van Stattens abhorrent collection from her mind. It was working. Sort of. In thirty second century Liverpool - with the docks now a space port, the city’s World Museum had been changed to reflect the ecosystems lost. The top of floor was a history of aquatic life - all tunnels and glass. Like Sea-Life on steroids she thought with a snort. Rose watched the rays glide serenely past - and was momentarily distracted from her exhaustion as fish shoaled in their own little gangs in between the rays - nipping impatiently at each other’s tails. She felt rather than saw the Doctors presence as he arrived by her side. His fingers brushed her palm in greeting. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He enquired. The Doctor took in Rose’s unusually quiet demeanour with apprehension. Her shoulders were slumped and her chest concave. She seemed to be folding into her self - so unlike the bright spark of energy and sass that usually followed him around. Rose paused, as if deciding how much not to say. 

“I’m tired.” Rose settled on finally. It was the truth but it wasn’t quite an adequate description of the space that had settled in her chest, gnawing at the edges of her ribs and getting larger. 

“Aquariums always make me sleepy too” the Doctor replied jovially, hoping to elicit a smile. He craved them from her, needed them to get through the day. She didn’t respond verbally, but attempted to burrow her face into the shoulder of his jacket. Hiding. That wasn’t like her. The Doctor furrowed his brow and sighed inwardly. 

“Right, you. TARDIS. Come on, your mum will kill me if she sees you in this state - you need a good meal and a rest - doctors orders.” He announced with a purpose. Rose looked like she was thinking about protesting, but decided against it. 

Hand in hand she followed the Doctor back to where they’d parked the TARDIS on the edge of the Dockyard. The Dockyard’s red bricks were now incongruous with the platinum and glass edges of the city behind them. A wall of graffiti caught her eye, a golden wolf snarling in the centre of a stormy sea, and a cold trickle of dread crept down her spine. She shook herself sharply and quickened her step. 

The warm glow of the TARDIS welcomed her back home. The Doctor steered her through the console room, his hand a comforting weight at the small of her back. They stopped at his bedroom door. She was taken aback as he pushed her through the threshold, closing the door behind him. She positively gaped like a cod fish as he flung his jacket on a chair and nipped into a side room. She heard the sound of a kettle boiling, mugs clinking and biscuit packets rustling. She’d never been here before - this was his private space - she wanted to feel excited, apprehensive anything like her normal self but the space in the middle of her chest grew numb and itchy as she stood in front of his bed.

The Doctor reappeared with a tray of tea and a huge pile of custard creams and bourbons. He set the tray at the end of the bed and turned to face Rose. She blinked at him, doe like. She let him sit her down on the edge of the bed and he crouched and slid her chunky trainers from her feet. He handed her a mug of tea and she sipped robotically. Her trance continued as he methodically supplied biscuits and chatted aimlessly about TARDIS repairs. Roses stomach began to feel heavy, the tea and biscuits weighing her conciousness down. The Doctor caught her mug as it veered to a 45 degree angle without her permission, sloshing tea on her jeans. The Doctor spoke softly, not wanting to break the spell.

“The TARDIS has put your nightie and toothbrush and things in my bathroom. Go and sort yourself out and then it’s bedtime”

Rose went through the motions. Wash face. Brush teeth. Comb hair. Use the loo. Put on nightie. She re-entered the bedroom and crawled on top of the coverlets. She barely noticed the Doctor rearranging the covers so she was underneath. She hadn’t seen his flannel pyjamas but felt their softness against her skin. His double heartbeat lub-dubbed like an ocean wave against her head as he tucked her under his chin. He held her tightly but it wasn’t stifling. The hold that the void in her chest had taken up began to loosen as she slipped into unconsciousness. 

“You’re safe now” he stated softly as she drifted “I’ve got you, always will do. Let go. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Rose let go. Darkness came but the dreams never arrived


End file.
